


Prelude

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-14
Updated: 2008-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-19 10:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12408909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Individually, they were no more than an instrument, a single note. But together, they formed a harmony, a melody; music. They formed a masterpiece. Together, they would play the Prelude.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

  
Author's notes: 1  


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**A/N: ** Ok, so yeah. My first attempt at James/Lily, or the Marauder's era. So lets hope this goes well.

This was inspired by a piece of music - not a song. "Prelude" by Yanni. If you have't head it, I suggest you listen to it. Thus, the title is not of my own imagination, but of the masterful composer.

So, I'm not usually one for Prologues, but this is written in such a completely different style of writing to the rest of the story that I decided to isolate it as a Prologue. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and would love to hear your thoughts on it.

**Prelude: Prologue.**

She hummed, tunelessly, softly, in time with the quiet beat of her shoes on the stone floor beneath them. She moved fluidly, melting between the shadow and the light, as if she belonged to both, and yet neither. Fading and burning as she moved from one to the other. Like a Phoenix, to flames, and ashes, and rising again. She moved as if on air, her footsteps making barely a sound, except for the beat which only she could hear, to which her music flowed silently inside her, played out in the vision of her. Vibrant, beautiful, intoxicating – addicting. Dangerous.

 

She seemed to dance around the corner, like a flame in the dark, fiery red hair flickering playfully around her pale face, from which shone the glittering emerald windows to her soul. Her steps faltered, the beat slowing, eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the small group ahead of her. A Quartet: The Clarinet, the Drums, the Violin, the Piano. Each one as lovely as the last, and yet all the more beautiful together. Individually, no more than an instrument, but together a harmony, a melody; music. A masterpiece. The Marauders.

 

Their rhythm faltered, slowing, and stopped. The drums. He turned, fluid as fire, to look at her, and she felt herself burn under the intensity of his hazel gaze. He had heard her own beat, felt her rhythm. He always did. He always knew she was there.

 

“Evans.” His voice was deep, low, smooth. Dark. Though she had stopped moving, her beat continued, faster and faster. It was her heart. She pulsed. Excitement sang inside her.

 

“Potter.” He smiled, slow and easy. It was tranquil and soft; a smile meant only for her. Her beat quickened. Her tempo.

“Lost?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. The other three turned, fell in beside him, and his beat returned.

 

“No more than you,” she replied, an eyebrow mirroring his own. The smile she gave him was light and playful, a song of its own. She had grown to like these exchanges, she enjoyed them. Never actively seeking them, but she enjoyed them.

 

“Dumbledore?” A question; a challenge. Playful, his smile was still there, a hint of laughter dancing in his hazel eyes.

 

“Dumbledore.” The confirmation. She passed the test. As one, sharing one note, the Marauders moved, splitting down the middle, and she stepped forward to fill the empty space, falling into harmony, falling into step, with them. They moved, walked in silence, except for their music: The Clarinet, the Piano, the Violin, and two identical beats.

 

 

 


	2. Introduction

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  **A/N:** Wow, ok, so chapter one! I hope y'all enjoy it. I'm not 100% happy with it, though that might be due to the fact I've read and re-read it to the point that I'm sick of it. If you notice any mistakes, please point them out to me as I haven't got a beta! And Love = Reviews and favourite quotes!

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** Chapter One: Introduction. **

If asked to Lily Evans would always describe the Headmaster's office as warm. It was bright, though not overly so, and welcoming. Tastefully decorated in rich reds and purples and gold; scattered throughout with an odd assortment of soft looking chintz pieces. It all looked very comfortable, and decidedly, very cheerful. A roaring fire sat in the grate, filling the room with a warm woody smell, and the soft crackle of burning logs, both of which seemed to warm her skin more so than the actual flames. A Phoenix, sat on its perch, seemed to hum, setting a pulse somewhere inside her; a different beat. She felt happy and safe. Warm. The Office reminded her of the Gryffindor common room, despite them looking nothing alike, and being infinitely more interesting, but there was a familiarity to the room that went beyond having been there before. But, perhaps the warmest thing, where it all seemed to centre, was the old man sat behind the large, winged desk, with long white hair, a matching beard and sparkling blue eyes.

Albus Dumbledore.

He sat forward, peering mysteriously over his steepled fingers, at each of the rooms occupants, who were oblivious to his appearance. Lily sat stiff backed in a chintz patterned armchair, something she was finding it quite hard to maintain, due to how utterly comfortable the chair was, and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself backwards and slouch indulgently. She was far too curious, though, about whatever it was the Headmaster had to say, and so found herself perching excitedly on the edge of her seat.

The four boys to her left, however, found no trouble in making themselves comfortable, and lounged in a regal looking couch. Indeed, they looked so at home: James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin, that a person would be forgiven for thinking that they belonged there. No doubt, they had been in this particular room more than enough times for them to consider it quite like a second home. They were, after all, nothing if not trouble makers, and very good at it. Lily scowled at the two dark haired boys holding a quietly murmured conversation, heads bent close together. It could only mean trouble, and not just for them. Catching James's eye, her frown deepened admonishingly, but he paid her no heed. His lips curved themselves into, what was obviously meant to be, a charming smile, and he dropped her a cheeky wink.

The urge to tell him off flared inside her, as it always did whenever they were in each others company for longer than a few minutes. James Potter really knew how to bring out the worst in her; she always came off so boring around him. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate his humour, because he was a phenomenally funny person, they all were, but his tendency to single her out all the time, and the shameless public flirting wound her up so much that she became embarrassed and flustered, and turned into a mini McGonagall. She didn't want to, she wanted to laugh at their jokes along with everyone else, but then he would turn and wink at her, or call out to her, and she would suddenly become embarrassed at the sudden increase in public attention, and she would blame James, of course, because he was the one who had brought her into it, and she would find herself telling him off again. It was a vicious cycle that he never seemed to tire of. His arrogance and immaturity never ceased to amaze her. Yet somehow, she wasn't sure how, he had managed to procure himself the Head Boy's badge. So something must have changed along the way. She had to have missed something, maybe he was growing up after all ...

James and Sirius had begun to Snigger. Sirius was flicking his wand up and down rhythmically, both pairs of eyes drawn to something on the other side of the room. Lily followed their line of sight and nearly groaned aloud. Honestly, did they have a death wish? Hestia Jones, a Hufflepuff seventh year well known for her primness and propriety, stood facing away from them, talking animatedly to Edgar Bones, both completely oblivious, as the back of her skirt bounced up and down, affording the rest of the room flashes of her bright red knickers. Beside Lily, Dorcas Meadowes shifted, and let out the groan that Lily had been holding in. “She'll kill them if she ever finds out,” she murmured from her position on the arm of Lily's chair. Lily suspected that Dorcas was completely right.

“That's not much of an incentive for me not to tell her,” Lily murmured back, and Dorcas snorted quietly in agreement, nodding her head, although evidently amused at Hestia's current situation. Though, Lily had to admit – who knew that Hestia owned underwear in a colour other than white?

“If you're quite finished, Mr Black? Mr Potter?” Came the quiet voice of the Headmaster. James and Sirius froze, eyes widening in something akin to horror. Lily couldn't help but feel sorry for them as they turned to face an expressionless Dumbledore. Sirius let his fingers go slack, and his wand slipped from between them into the folds of his robes. “That will be ten points each from Gryffindor, I believe, and we shall discuss your detentions at the end.” Both boys nodded dumbly at Dumbledore, who turned away from them.

“What have they done now?” Lily heard Hestia whisper, and watched as Edgar shrugged his shoulders, equally as confused. But behind them, Marlene McKinnon and Emmeline Vance were shaking violently, their expressions almost pained in their attempts to suppress their laughter. Lily could feel an amused grin plucking at the corners of her mouth.

The soft rustle of fabric brought her attention back to Professor Dumbledore, who she was surprised to see was now stood in front of his desk, looking very tall in robes of emerald green. He surveyed them all for a moment over the rim of his half-moon glasses, his gaze coming to rest on each of them in turn. Finally, it came to rest on Lily, regarding her for a moment before he gave the briefest of nods.

“I thank you all for coming on such short notice, and beg pardon for them interruption I have imposed on your time,” he said quietly, as if their presence there was a great courtesy on their part. “But, I have something of the highest importance that I wish to discuss with all of you,” the old man explained. The room had gone unnaturally still, and everyone's attention was centred completely on the silver-haired Professor before them.

“Each person before me now was hand picked and carefully considered to be here this evening. Each of you possesses the qualities and the abilities I am looking for, and you would not be here if I did not trust each and every one of you.” His voice remained soft and light, almost conversational, and yet the seriousness in his tone was unmistakeable. His gaze had sharpened as he spoke, but the twinkle never died. “And trust is something that I am finding increasingly harder to come by in such times as these. Each of you holds a great deal of influence. Whether it be through authority, or immense social respect,” he continued, eyes flickering briefly over James and Sirius at his last comment. “And in such times as these, the ability to influence can mean life or death.”

Dumbledore fell silent for a moment and took a few slow steps towards them, giving them all an opportunity to gauge each others expressions. Most faces in the room bore the same bemused expressions of confusion as currently adorned Lily's. Some, James and Sirius, wore identical expressions of almost suspicious puzzlement. Peter was leaning forward eagerly, obviously pleased to be counted amongst those with influence and apparently hoping that whatever it was that Dumbledore had to tell them would be helping this position. Only Remus's face seemed to show any understanding of what was being said, though he did not appear at all pleased about it. Indeed, his brows were pulled inward in a worried frown and he chewed nervously on his lower lip.

“Professor,” he said softly. “You're talking about Voldemort, aren't you?” His voice, though quiet, remained steady and strong, betraying none of the fear most people felt at the mention of the name. Behind her, Lily heard three loud intakes of breath and a strange, strangled sort of noise she was sure had come from Edgar. On the arm of her chair, Dorcas's entire body had twitched, and she swung around to gape incredulously at the sandy-haired man. Lily, who simply refused to give into any of the you-know-who nonsense, still felt a swoop of fear in her stomach at the mention of the name, though she did not betray the fear in her composure. Dumbledore said nothing for a few long moments, and studied Lupin, who calmly met his gaze, knowingly. The old man's beard twitched, the twinkling in his blue eyes seemed to increase tenfold, and he gave a small nod. Though, when he spoke, his voice was just as soft and serious as it had been moments before.

“You are correct, Mr Lupin. I am speaking, of course, of the Wizard who calls, and fashions, himself Lord Voldemort.” His eyes moved away from Lupin, who seemed to visibly relax. He paced slowly back and forth in front of the small group. “I will not insult you all by explaining who Voldemort is, and what he wants. You are all exceptionally gifted and talented people, and I dare say, know more about the current state of things than most.” He stopped pacing, and his clever gaze flitted to the Marauders, who were eyeing each other uncomfortably.

“I will not toil by bestowing you all with compliments so well deserved, for it would appear that I am attempting to 'butter you up', and I have not the time such a task would take. I have called you all here to make a request.” The air was thick with tension, hot and slightly suffocating. Every face was turned to stare avidly at Dumbledore. The complete and utter silence that pressed in on them seemed louder to Lily that anything she had ever heard.

“Everyday Voldemort grows stronger, everyday he gains a new supporter sympathetic to his cause. Everyday, news of chaos, destruction and death reaches our eyes and our ears.” Dumbledore's voice rang out in the silence, despite the fact that he spoke barely above a whisper. Images flashed before Lily's eyes: newspapers, pictures, headlines. This mornings: Auror Abbot Dies – Killed by Voldemort. “In nine months you will be leaving these halls for good, to set out on a new adventure. But, each and every one of you will be faced with a decision, and it is a decision you must make, for in this world there is no place for the indifferent.

Voldemort, make no mistake, is intelligent. Incredibly so. There are rumours which claim that he could even rival myself. He is also ruthless, and the two combined make for a very dangerous individual. He will manipulate and he will kill to get  his way. There are many things that Voldemort wants and he will cut down any in his path. He is very much, as they say, all or nothing. You are with him or you are against him. And if you dare to oppose him, he will exact every revenge upon you and your family. You cannot sit idly by and watch this war progress, because the war will some day turn up on your door step.”

The tension in the room seemed to solidify and drop down onto them heavily. Lily's body had stiffened painfully, so that her back ached and her fingers tightly gripped the arms of her chair. She was having no trouble in remaining sat upright any more. James had stiffened too, leaning forward slightly and panting shallowly and Lupin looked like as though he were in pain, fists curled tightly, hands shaking and taking slow, deep breaths. Beside Lily, Dorcas's fingers had a crushing grip on the red-heads wrist, but neither girl noticed.

“It is time to decide who you will be fighting, and who you will be fighting for,” he said gravely, and as one, they expelled the collective breath they had been holding. Relief seemed to rush out of them all, and Lupin sank back into the couch, a shaky hand covering his eyes as he took quick, calming breaths. Lily could see Sirius snickering at him out the corner of her eye, and frowned; confused.

“But, Professor!” James Potter blurted out, drawing her attention. He was leaning forward, ignoring the antics of his friends. “Surely you know whose side we're on. None of us would ever join Voldemort.” James's voice stayed strong and steady as Remus's had, and he ignored the shiver of fear that ran over the rest of the group. Lily felt a flutter of pride and admiration somewhere between her stomach and her chest. No one could ever doubt that James Potter was a Gryffindor.

“I would not dare to assume I know the mind of another person, Mr Potter,” said Dumbledore, smiling mysteriously over the rim of his half-moon glasses, but he did not elaborate further. Lily knew what Dumbledore was doing, what he was trying to prove. It seemed to do the trick, however, as they all peered curiously, bordering suspiciously, around at each other. James sat back, shock etched deep into the lines of his face. He looked slightly offended. As did Sirius, who looked as if he were about to say something.

“Professor?” called Dorcas, and Dumbledore's piercing gaze shifted to her. “Your request? You said you had a request to make of us? I'm very much doubting it was asking us to pick a side,” she informed him wryly. Lily had to give credit where credit was due, but straight forward would have been an understatement where this Gryffindor was concerned. But, when Dorcas's eyes briefly flickered over towards the boys, Lily had to wonder if she had seen Sirius's intention to speak as well.

“Ah!” said Dumbledore raising a single finger. “But that is exactly what I am asking you to do.” He took a few steps closer to the group and may have leaned in secretively, Lily wasn't sure, but the old man's entire demeanour had changed to that of someone sharing an important secret. “An anti-Voldemort movement has recently been established and put into action. A society, an Order,” Lily felt her breath catch in her throat, “of the Phoenix,” he seemed to whisper. Emmeline Vance gasped audibly and James Potter muttered an astounded “blimey.”

“You have heard of us?” Dumbledore asked, clearly amused. Everyone nodded awestruck, no one trusting their voices. “Excellent, then I need not waste time explaining. We fight Voldemort, simple. Yet we do far more than what you read of in the Daily Prophet,” he said, smiling mysteriously. Lily caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to see Sirius Black lean forward, an amazed expression colouring his face. “It isn't all heroic rescues and well publicised, if misleading, battles-”

“You founded the Order of the Phoenix?” Sirius cut in loudly, a reverent look stretched across his face. Lily felt herself glowering at the handsome young man, who turned towards her as though he had felt the heat of her glare, and quailed under the dark look she was giving him and sank back into the couch, sulking. Now was obviously not the time. Dumbledore, however, seemed to find Sirius's excitement entertaining.

“Yes, Mr Black, I am the founder of the Order,” he replied with an amused smile, and then turned away from Sirius, but not before giving him a brief nod to show that he was not being dismissed. “And as the founder it remains my duty to recruit new members.” Lily could feel excitement thrumming through her, an exhilarating mixture of adrenaline and fear. She was almost certain she knew what was coming. “The Order, as it stands, is severely under manned. And whilst we, like Voldemort, grow stronger everyday, it is still not enough; we need all the help we can get.” Everyone seemed to know what was coming. Even Peter Pettigrew had understood and was sitting forward, nodding frantically in a manner she would surely have found comical under any other circumstances.

“Professor?” Marlene McKinnon said doubtfully.

“I am asking you all to join us, to become members of the Order,” he declared lightly, as though inviting them to tea. The silence that prevailed was so complete, so utterly unnatural, that Lily wondered briefly if a silencing charm had been cast upon the room. No one spoke, no one moved, no one breathed, and for the longest time they sat and stared at Dumbledore, unable to hide their shock, despite the fact they had been expecting it.

Peter, Lily noticed, no longer appeared at all pleased with what Dumbledore was saying. Indeed, his face had gone pale and his eyes were wide with fear. Lily had often wondered what it was bout Peter Pettigrew that qualified him as a Gryffindor, and was again plagued by the question as she beheld his openly horrified face. Perhaps he has not been expecting an invitation to join the Order after all.

“I do not expect your answers straight away,” Dumbledore continued after a few moments, allowing what he had said to sink in. “I will give you a week-”

“I'm in,” James Potter interrupted, his face a mask of determination. Beside him, Sirius and Lupin both nodded, expressions identical to that of James's. Lily couldn't exactly explain why, but she felt a warm surge of affection towards the boys in that moment. They looked so grown up, so mature, sat there, their faces stubbornly serious, fully prepared to fight. They were no longer the skinny little toerags she had started Hogwarts with. They were no longer the mischievous runts who had charmed her hair as green as her eyes, or Mary McDonald's quill to spell out nothing but swear words. They were men now, and it was the first time that Lily truly appreciated that fact.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. “Admirable sentiments though they are, Gentlemen, and they are greatly appreciated, I must ask you to consider what you are agreeing to. To involve yourself with the Order is to make yourself a target. You will become the Prime targets of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You will be hunted. I am not going to sugar coat anything, because that will be fair to no one. If you agree to join the Order, there is the very really threat that you may be injured, or possibly killed.”

“We know,” Sirius implored over the startled gasp of Marlene McKinnon. “We're prepared-”

“Please!” Dumbledore cut him off, raising a hand to silence him. “I understand, Mr Black, I understand completely. But still, I must ask you to think this over, make absolutely sure.” He shifted his body away from Sirius by a fraction and looked to the rest of the group. “You must make absolutely sure. That is why I am giving you a week. If you should decide to join he Order, return here at the same time next Wednesday. If you do not, I will respect your decision. But do not forget what I have told you: there is no place in this world for the indifferent. One way or another, this war will find you,” he said darkly.

Dumbledore returned to sit behind his desk and spread his hands. “Does anyone have any question?” He peered around at them all expectantly. For a moment everyone remained quiet, then Dorcas softly cleared her throat.

“Yes, Professor, I have one.” Lily marvelled at the dark hared girls ability to always sound confident, even when addressing the headmaster. “What would you have us doing exactly? I don't think you'd send us out to fight, even if it was what we wanted to do.” Dorcas smiled wryly. Dumbledore's expression did not appear to change, but something told Lily that he was impressed with Dorcas.

“If you return next week, you will learn the answer to your question. As it is, I cannot risk revealing the Order's plans to anyone outside of it.” Dorcas merely shrugged, appearing not care that her question had gone unanswered. Something Lily found strange for a girl so used to getting what she wants. But when Dorcas turned a tight smile on Lily, she suddenly realised that Dorcas had not expected him to give her an answer, but she had as good as gotten one anyway: they would not be involved in the fighting. Dumbledore's meaning had not been lost on James or Sirius either, who were scowling at Dumbledore disapprovingly. Or perhaps they were still annoyed at Dumbledore's rebuff of their willingness to join the Order. “Well then, if none of you has any more questions, then I believe we can call this meeting at an end,” Dumbledore declared, clapping his hands together lightly.

Lily expelled a breath, and finally sank back into the soft arm chair, allowing the tension to seep from her body. Around her, everyone had started murmuring softly to one another; the small group across the room had already begun slowly moving towards the door, with Hestia and Marlene at it's head, whispering excitedly. Dorcas's weight on the arm of her chair lifted, and Lily looked up at the slender girl, watching through her lashes as Dorcas stretched her long frame. She brought her arms back down to her sides and turned to look at the undignified heap that was Lily Evans. She snorted derisively, though amusement danced in her blue eyes.

“Very elegant, Evans.” One of Lily's eyebrows rose. She had never really understood why this habit of calling each other by their last names had arisen amongst her house mates, nor why she partook in it. It was utter nonsense.

“Stuff it, Meadowes,” Lily shot back, smiling indulgently as she wiggled further into the armchair. Dorcas chuckled.

“Did I just hear Evans tell someone to stuff it?” said the squeaky voice of Peter Pettigrew, and Lily smiled sweetly up at the mousy haired boy.

“I doubt you did, Wormtail. Evans is far too nice to say anything like that to one of her friends,” replied the quiet voice of Remus Lupin. He glanced down at Lily, sprawled out in the armchair and his eyebrows shot up. “Comfy?”

“She did, actually, tell me to stuff it,” Dorcas said with a great show of mock dramatics. Behind the dark haired girl, Lily could see James and Sirius stood before the Headmaster's desk, heads bowed respectfully as Dumbledore spoke quietly to them. They looked to each other once, and then nodded at the Headmaster. A few short words later they turned away looking highly disturbed. Lily really wanted to laugh at them. They approached the group at the same time, and Lily looked away, trying to appear involved in the conversation Dorcas, Remus and Peter were having about her. Lily sighed.

“Who told who to stuff what?” Sirius asked jovially, pulling up beside Peter.

“Who's Evans told to stuff it now?” James asked at the same time, from beside Sirius. Lily huffed this time, and pouted.

“I don't do it that much,” she grumbled.

“Of course you don't,” Dorcas replied soothingly, patting the top of Lily's hair. “Come on, lets get a move on. Ill scare whoever's in the armchair by the fire out of it so you can slouch in the common room.” Lily started to grin, but it faded rapidly and she let out a groan of disappointment.

“Rounds,” she moaned, “with Edgar.” Dorcas grimaced, as did the boys. Edgar Bones was what some might call self-aware. The Gryffindor's called him a pain in the arse. James tutted sympathetically and stepped forward extending his hand to her.

“Gutted,” he mocked as he wrapped his long fingers around Lily's smaller ones and tugged her out of the armchair. Her body left its cosy position with a groan of longing, and she felt her limp body toppling to the left. James steadied her with a sharp jerk of her arm, and keeping a firm grip on her hand, he started to followed the others from the room. Lily frowned at their entwined hands for a moment; she knew there was something wrong with it, that there was a reason she shouldn't be allowing it, but it was hard to remember the what's and the whys when his hand was so big and warm around hers. It made her feel small and protected, and the heat from his hand seemed to seep into her skin and spread over her body.

“All right there, Evans?” James said smoothly, and she raised her head to meet his hazel eyes. He was smirking; confusion bubbled up inside her. What could he possibly be smirking at? She cocked her head, and her brows knitted together. His smirk grew and his gaze flitted from her, to their hands and away. Lily scowled. That was why she didn't hold hands with him: he was Potter.

With no regard for the fact they were currently travelling down a spiralling, moving, staircase, she gave her arm a violent tug in an attempt to free her imprisoned hand. James, who had been anticipating an escape attempt, tightened his grip on her hand and tugged forward as she tugged back. Lily stumbled forward and found herself pressed up against James's back, at the bottom of the staircase, with a strong urge to scream.

“Finally given in have we, Evans?” said the extremely amused voice of Sirius Black. Lily growled, and pushed her curtain of red hair out of her face as she attempted to murder the raven-haired boy with her eyes. He grinned cheerily at her and Lily was visited by the sudden urge to cry. Instead, she opted to retain what little of her dignity James Potter had not yet managed to demolish in their six years spent together at Hogwarts. She straightened up and took a step backwards, putting as much space between herself and James as was possible for two people holding hands.

“Potter,” she began primly, “would you be kind enough to let go of my hand, please?” Sirius scoffed, and Lily only stopped herself from scowling at him because a tell-tale ache had begun across her brow that told her she had been scowling far too much that day. She determinedly stared James down, chin tilted up, and eyes promising an agonising death if he didn't let go right that minute. The smirk still curled the corner of his mouth as he shrugged and loosened his fingers. Alarm bells started to go off inside Lily's head; James never gave in that easily. She eyed him wearily, considering him for a moment, then gave her hand an experimental tug and had to swear to stop herself from hexing the bespectacled man now grinning at her.

Dorcas's cackle went unnoticed, as did Sirius's “Did Evans just call him what I think she did?” and Remus's hysterical laughter. Even Peter's hasty twenty foot retreat went unnoticed in the rage that coloured Lily's vision.

She gave her hand another tug, harder, but it only succeeded in pulling James closer to her. She growled up into his face, “Let go, Potter.” He smiled serenely down at her, and pulled is hand up for them to look at, bringing hers as well. He wiggled his fingers at her coyly, but her hand remained attached to his.

“I have let go.” Lily stared, horrified, at their fused hands. A single piece of skin joined them at the palm in a disgusting mockery of Siamese twins. Lily felt sick; a sentiment that Dorcas clarified in her cheerful “Yuck.” Lily continued to stare, repulsed, at their hands and she felt a wave of fury washing over her, blocking out the gleeful howls of Sirius, Remus and Peter. She took a deep, calming breath.

“Fix it, Potter, she snarled. “Now.

James's smile faltered slightly as he took in Lily's enraged expression and the anger that shook her voice. He seemed to momentarily contemplate the situation before the grin was back in place, deciding that he was in enough trouble with her anyway, and by no means a person to to do anything by halves. His eyes flashed mischievously, and his eyebrows rose innocently. Added to the grin, he looked remarkably like a rather playful kitten. And, disarmingly child-like.

“I can't, Evans,” he said shrugging his shoulders and causing Lily's arm to move as well. The red head could feel her patience wearing thin. Behind James, Dorcas had joined in the other three boy's laughter, supporting herself on the wall. Lily felt oddly betrayed.

“What do you mean, you can't?” she snapped at James, whose grin widened.

“I mean, I don't know how to,” he said slowly. Lily growled, and with her free hand, she poked him hard in the chest using her index finger.

“Of course you do, you did this! Now fix it, or I'll ...” James's eyes widened in further feigned innocence, and his eyebrows rode higher up his forehead. Lily was teetering on the edge of a violent explosion.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Evans. Of course this wasn't my doing. Why would I do this?” Behind James, Lupin had ceased laughing and was taking slow, retreating steps towards Peter, a weary look creasing his face as he seemed to sense Lily's imminent combustion.

“Oh, I don't know, Potter,” she ground out, now a startling shade of red. “Maybe because you wanted to attach yourself to me?” she suggested scathingly. James's grin widened. Behind him, Dorcas, too, seemed to sense the inevitable and had begun to take careful step towards where Remus and Peter stood safely out of harms way. Sirius, who it was widely known shared his only brain cell with James, was the only one who remained, barely two foot away from a ticking human bomb, still cackling away madly.

“That's rather presumptuous, isn't it, Evans?” James said tauntingly. “That's an awful high opinion you've got of yourself,” he suggested mildly.

Twenty feet away Remus, Peter, and Dorcas winced as Lily's expression darkened from dangerous to murderous. Sirius finally seemed to notice that he was stood alone, within reaching distance of a homicidal Lily Evans and stumbled backwards into the wall, his face alight with terror. Lily barely spared him a glance. Her eyes had taken on a shade of green reminiscent of the Avada Kedavra curse as she glared up into the smirking face of James Potter. Mentally, amidst their terror, the four spectators made note of which items they hoped James had left them in his will.

However, death never came to James. His salvation arrived in the form of a willowy seventh year boy, and Dorcas mentally cursed him as the luckiest man alive.

“Lily, there you are,” came the pompous drawl of Edgar Bones as he rounded the corner; dull blond waves bouncing atop his head. “I've been looking for you. We've got rounds in ten minutes,” he scolded her, and the red head scowled, shifting her glare to the Hufflepuff. The boy's tall frame froze mid-step, and he reared back.

“Lily?” inquired the pale boy wearily. Lily's eyes flashed dangerously and her lips lifted into a snarl.

“I'll be with you in a minute,” she spat at him, and Edgar flinched, taking another step away from the obviously deranged Head-Girl, looking utterly bewildered.

“S-something wrong?” he stuttered, blue eyes flying wearily between Lily and James and their joined hands. If possible, her expression darkened further. Before Lily could reply however, James had spun them around to face the delicate looking blond and gazed down at him patronisingly.

“'Fraid there's been a change of plans, Ed,” he told Edgar, his Head-Boy voice in place. “I'll be doing rounds with Evans tonight, and you'll be doing mine on Sunday with McKinnon.” Edgar looked like he was going to argue for a moment; his shoulders stiffened and his face coloured indignantly, but he quailed under the hard look James turned on him and he nodded meekly instead.

“Yes-yes, okay then, Potter,” he mumbled weakly, already taking slow, backward steps, and with a last terrified look at James's hard face, Lily's furious expression and their attached hands, he spun on his foot and all out sprinted away from them.

It didn't take Dumbledore to realise that Hufflepuff would soon be under the impression that Lily and James were a couple. Albeit, a very angry couple. Though, Dorcas suspected that Peter's wide eyes and gaping mouth had more to do with fear of Lily than acknowledgement of what a gossip Edgar Bones was.

“If she doesn't kill him tonight, she'll do it tomorrow,” Lupin mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, seeming to opt for the age old 'If-I-Stand-Perfectly-Still-She-Won't-See-Me' routine. Sirius, who had crept down the corridor to join them, nodded emphatically, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. Dorcas cleverly shielded herself behind the two boys. That way, when Lily ripped James to pieces, she wouldn't get her uniform splattered with gore.

From the distance at which they stood, they couldn't hear whatever it was Lily was growling, but from the smile on James's face, it was definitely threatening.

“Potter! Evans!” The two students jumped and quickly spun to look down the corridor that Edgar had fled from. Their eyes widened innocently as they caught sight of Professor McGonagall marching towards them, a suspicious gleam in her eyes.

“Yes, Professor?” Lily asked breathlessly, the pink stain in her cheeks making her appear guilty of some unknown crime.

“What's going on here? Why are you all standing in the middle of the Corridor?” McGonagall's eyes fell between the two Head Students and she raised a surprised eyebrow. “Holding hands?” Lily rolled her eyes skyward and mentally counted to ten. “Finally given in then, Evans?” The older woman sounded almost relieved.

Dorcas, Lupin, Sirius and Peter collapsed into giggles again as Lily turned her glare on their transfiguration Professor. Had it been a curse, Hogwarts would most certainly have been in need of a new Deputy-Head.

“No, Professor, I have not given in,” Lily ground out as politely as was possible through gritted teeth. The older woman's brown shifted higher and she tutted. Lily's free hand twitched murderously.

“Not yet, at least,” James chipped in cheerfully, rocking back on forth on his heels, causing Lily's body to sway as he swung his arms like a small child. McGonagall's eyes flickered to their joined hands and then back up to James. He got the impression that she didn't want to know.

“That's the spirit, Potter,” she encouraged him. The four spectators took an alarmed step backwards as Lily went from pink to royal purple in a matter of seconds. But, before Lily so much as had the chance to open her mouth, McGonagall had turned to face the other four. “Black, Pettigrew, Lupin! What are you up to?” she asked suspiciously. Three pairs of eyes went wide and there was a chorus of “nothings!”

“Oi! Meadowes is with us as well!” Sirius pointed out indignantly. McGonagall's lips thinned out.

“If Miss Meadowes is at all involved in whatever nefarious scheme you three have concocted, I can only imagine it will be due to corruption at your hands, Black. Therefore, the girl cannot be blamed,” she said simply. Sirius gaped incredulously at the greying woman, whilst Dorcas smiled sweetly at his side. “Now, your meeting with Dumbledore finished fifteen minutes ago. Stop loitering around in front of his office and get back to the common room before you can lose the house any more points.”

No one asked how she had known about the meeting; it was common sense that McGonagall would be in the Order too.

“Evans and I have rounds, Professor,” James said, showing the woman their linked hands, as though it explained everything. Lily sighed miserably.

“I was under the impression that Evans had rounds with Bones tonight,” McGonagall said, her brows lowering into a confused frown.

“Change of plans,” Lily mumbled dejectedly, staring forlornly at her black school shoes. She was at an utter loss as to why she let Potter away with ... well ... everything.

“Right, well, get on with it then,” McGonagall said sharply. “And you four,” she said turning to face the other Gryffindors, “get back to the Common Room before Filch finds you and I have to put up with his infernal complaints.” She glared at them pre-emptively, as though they had already been caught wreaking havoc in the halls. Everyone shuffled around restlessly, and glancing around at each other, scuffing their toes on the ground, unwilling to leave. McGonagall's glare hardened. “Now.

“Yeah, listen, you lot best get back to the Common Room before you get into any trouble. We can talk in a bit,” James said suddenly, turning to look at Sirius, a carefully calculated look on his face. Lily got the impression that he was wordlessly communicating with the handsome boy, who nodded in understanding.

“Four?” Sirius questioned cryptically, and James nodded.

“Yeah, that should do.” And without another word, Sirius spun on his heel and swept off down the corridor. Peter and Lupin, who apparently completely understood, turned easily and followed Sirius. Dorcas hesitated a moment, eyeing James suspiciously, who nodded encouragingly at her, before she hurried after the three boys. Lily sighed aggrivatedly. One day, she would figure them out. Then, they'd be for it.

McGonagall, she was relieved to see, looked utterly bewildered and Lily felt slightly better that she wasn't the only one who didn't understand them.

“Well then, Professor,” James said, stepping back from McGonagall. “We best be off,” he told her, and giving Lily's arm a gentle tug, started to hurry down the corridor to their left.

“Potter!” They skidded to a halt and spun around to face the ageing Professor, who was still watching them, a concerned expression shaping her features. She looked worried, and hesitant, like a mother watching her first-born leave home, realising they had grown up, but wishing they hadn't. “Be careful what you say, you never know who may be listening,” she warned them, though James and Lily suspected that it was not what she had wanted to say. After a few moments hesitation, James nodded jerkily and McGonagall turned away from them to face the Gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.

Lily felt a tug on her arm as James spun them around again, and they continued hurrying down the darkened corridor. Lily winced as the skin connecting their hands stretched pulling at her own, as James's longer legs carried him ahead of her. Her hand had become hot and sweaty and itchy encased inside James's; no longer warm and comfortable and she was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with the pace at which he was pulling her along.

“Potter, would you mind letting go of my hand now?” she said agitatedly.

“Yes.”

“Potter-”

“I can't,” he cut her off. Lily felt her annoyance growing again.

“Look, Potter, I know it was you who did this, so just stop it,” she snapped at him. “Let go of my hand.” She was sure he rolled his eyes.

“Look, Evans, even if I could let go of your hand, I wouldn't,” he said and Lily ground her teeth together again. “It's out excuse.”

“What do you mean, 'it's our excuse'?” she asked.

“I mean, if anyone stops us and asks us why you're not doing your rounds with Bones, it's our excuse,” he explained. Lily scowled at his back as he swung them around a corner and took of down another corridor at breakneck speed. It was darker, and had a distinctly unused look to it that made Lily feel uncomfortable despite James's blazing presence.

“That's ridiculous, Potter,” she snapped. “All we'd have to tell them is that we have important Head's business to discuss and had no other time to do it.” James sighed, and she was positive he rolled his eyes this time. He stopped abruptly in front of a moth eaten tapestry and spun to face her.

“Why are you fighting this?” he asked, his face a mask of frustration, and Lily, taken aback by the sudden change in his usually playful demeanour, knew he wasn't talking about the hand holding.

“Fighting what?” she asked carefully. James seemed to battle with himself for a moment.

“Us!” he said earnestly, suddenly looking aggravated. No longer the laid-back, teasing Head-Boy she had come to expect. An old, familiar stab of annoyance fluttered in her chest. They were back to this then.

“Potter, give it a rest! There is no us!” Lily told him, exasperated. James shook his head, looking disappointed in her. Lily resisted the urge to stomp her foot in petulant frustration.

“I don't understand you,” he said softly. “You're fighting us, and I don't understand why?”

“I'm not fighting anything, Potter!” she said shrilly, her raised voice carrying down the deserted corridor. James's face hardened, transforming it completely, and she could now see why others found him intimidating.

“Yes, you are,” James said angrily. “And that's what really pisses me off, Evans. You're actually fighting this. Not me, not my constantly asking you out. You're fighting us. It's not even a case of you just not being interested. You are, whether you realise it or not, and you're putting up a fight against it. I'd have 'given it a rest' ages ago if I honestly believed I didn't have a chance. But I do, I know I do, and I don't care how much of an arrogant toerag that makes me sound,” he nearly sneered at her, “but I do. You're fighting us, you're fighting yourself. Christ Evans, I'm not that bad a bloke. I think I'm pretty decent compared to some of the scum that runs around this place.” He gave her a pointed look and an image of Snape flashed through her mind, but his expression softened at his next words. “I'd treat you like a princess, Evans. I could make you so happy. You wouldn't want for anything, not a thing. Just give me a chance; please stop fighting and just let yourself give in. Please.” Lily had never heard this note of pleading or near desperation in James before and she felt undeniably shaken. Her heart was beating hard, and her face felt overly warm. Her lips were parted slightly in shock as she gazed up into his earnest face and intense eyes, and felt her mouth quickly go dry. She didn't even notice as her head shook slowly from side to side.

“I'm not fighting anything,” she said quietly, and it was only when James's face darkened into a frustrated scowl did she realise that she had spoken. Though, she did not miss the hurt that flashed through his eyes briefly as she had spoken. Something inside her squirmed uncomfortably.

“Fine, whatever, Evans,” James said bitterly, and he tore his eyes away from her face to stare stonily over her head at the wall opposite, chewing angrily on his bottom lip. Lily fancied she saw a faint blush tint his cheeks, but a moment later decided it must have been the lighting of the corridor. Finally, with a heavy sigh, James tore his eyes away from the stone wall he had been glaring at and swallowed thickly, as though swallowing words threatening to escape. With one last angrily defeated look at Lily, he spun to face the tapestry behind him and studied it. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, he seemed to find whatever he had been looking for and reached forward to push the tapestry aside, revealing a narrow archway. Lily blinked. Slowly, comically, her jaw dropped as she stared at the archway in complete astonishment. James's lips twitched minutely. “What? How ...”

“Not now,” James said sharply, holding the tapestry higher and motioning her inside. Lily sent him a fleeting apprehensive look, before stepping forward and sliding with some difficulty through the narrow gap, and found herself stoop at the top of a spiralling stone stairwell. She felt a soft breeze play with the hem of her robes as James squeezed through the archway and dropped the tapestry. He moved up beside her and gave her a cold look before starting off down the stairwell, throwing an emotionless “come on” over his shoulder. Lily felt a slight pang of guilt as she followed him, her hand barely being held by his any more.

The steps were uneven, and Lily found herself stumbling over her feet every so often as she stepped down into a step smaller or larger than she had been expecting, and James made no move to help or warn her. She felt her annoyance with him starting to grow, and it was after five minutes of silent descent and a stumble that left her ankle throbbing that she decided to speak. “What is this?”

“Short cut,” James grunted, and Lily felt her anger flare as she stumbled again, her foot slipping off the edge of a step. Why was he being so difficult?

“A short cut to where?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“You'll see,” he said blandly, none of the mysterious playfulness she would have expected from a comment like that in his tone. She felt her face heat angrily, and her fingers unknowingly tightened around his.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she growled at him. He snorted derisively.

“You are.” Again, his voice was calm, but bitter. Lily's jaw clenched, her teeth clamped down on her tongue, and her mouth soon filled with a tell-tale metallic taste. She glared viciously at the back of his head, sure that he could feel the heat of it. Her lips curled in grim satisfaction when he snorted again, and his fingers tightened angrily around her own tense digits.

They walked in strained silence for a few more minutes before James stopped abruptly on a particularly large step. He threw a fleeting glance over his shoulder before turning to face the wall on his right and pulling his wand out of his robes. He considered the wall for a moment, as he had done the tapestry, before raising his wand and lightly tapping a brick. With a loud grinding noise, part of the wall slid away and James darted out into the dark corridor beyond, pulling Lily with him. She stared around, disoriented, vaguely recognising the corridor they had stepped out into. James was doing the same, but seemed to have a better sense of his bearings, because he quickly set off down the corridor, relentlessly pulling Lily along behind him. She was beginning to get a little bit fed up with his sudden hostility.

“Where are we?” she asked breathlessly, as she struggled to keep up with James's fast pace.

“Fourth floor,” he answered her in clipped tones, and her eyes widened in realisation as they rounded a corner into the darkened Charms corridor. And there, at the other end of the corridor, by the statue of Warbitus the Worryful, were four familiar shaped shadows. Lily sighed a breath of relief that she would no longer have to be alone with this new, hostile James.

“Why are they here?” She couldn't seem to stop herself from talking, though. She felt rather than saw, or heard, James sigh irritably.

“We need to talk,” he said impatiently, and Lily tried to ignore his tone.

“About what?” she asked mildly. For the first time since they had entered the stairwell, James properly looked at her, his brows raised incredulously over his cold eyes. Whilst she had seen them before, Lily had never been on the receiving end of one of James's moods, and she found she didn't like it one bit. He was making her feel uncomfortable and not a little bit guilty, and she felt annoyed at herself for that.

“I know you can be a bit clueless, Evans, but surely you're not that thick,” he said harshly, and everything about his posture seemed to scream superiority. Lily's heart sped up and her face heated in embarrassment and anger as tears suddenly itched at her eyes. She didn't understand what she was supposed to have done. They had come to a stop, having reached the waiting quartet, all of whom were staring at James in shock, having heard his nasty slight. Whatever Lily had done, that had been uncalled for.

Lily breathed heavily through her nose, and she felt herself beginning to shake with suppressed rage. She levelled a hate-filled glare on James, whose sneering expression spread into one of weary surprise. Behind him Sirius looked worried. Lily was at wit's end.

“Let go of my hand, now.” Though she had whispered the words, she might as well have screamed them for the way James flinched at the coldness in her tone. She could feel the others shifting uncomfortably behind them. After a tense moment in which James eyed her apprehensively, he released his grip on her hand.

Before the hand holding his wand could even twitch, Lily ripped her hand from his with a violent pull, and the sickening sound of a snap filled the silent corridor. James gave a cry of pain and pulled his freed hand to his chest, cradling it and turned horrified eyes on her.

Lily remained calm, her face a stony mask as she tried to ignore the pain in her own hand and the tell-tale wet trickle of blood down her fingers. James, for his part, looked too shocked to glare at her. Around her, however, the others had cried out angrily. She ignored them, and continued to stare at James, her expression filled with purest loathing.

She couldn't honestly say she knew where all of this anger and viciousness was coming from, but she did know that she was sick of everything. Sick of James Potter. Sick of his arrogance and cruelty; sick of his inability to behave, or think of anyone but himself. Sick of him thinking himself better than everyone else, and constantly throwing it in their faces; sick of him making her think that he might actually be all right, and then proving her wrong every time. She was sick of being ridiculed and belittled; sick of the word Mudblood and the name Voldemort. She was sick of people not understanding her; sick of being labelled a freak, and sick of not fitting in, no matter which world she was part of. But most of all, she was sick of her life, and the excuses she made for everyone and everything in it. She was sick of herself.

“You are everything I ever said you were, Potter,” she said dangerously quiet, not recognising her own voice. “You are the most arrogant piece of shit I have ever met.” She heard Dorcas's sharp intake of breath, and saw Peter's dumbfounded expression and suddenly felt emboldened. Though, her vision was swimming with tears that threatened to spill over.

“You want to talk about the scum that runs around this place? You make sure you're looking in the mirror the next time you do, because you're right down there with Snivellus and all his little Death Eater friends. You think that because you don't call me a Mudblood, and have no aspirations to join Voldemort, that makes you better than them? At least they have a fucking excuse for the way they act! But you? You're James Potter,” she spat at him, as if his name had manifested itself in her mouth and were the vilest thing he had ever tasted. “You don't need an excuse. We're all expected to fall on bended knee and worship you. It's incon-fucking-ceivable that not everyone is in love with you. You think you can talk to everyone however you want? Treat people like shit and get away with it? Well guess what, Potter? Not me.” She took a deep shuddering breath and ignored the tears now streaming down her face.

“You wanted to talk about the meeting? Okay then. Dumbledore now expects us to fight. It's us who's supposed to make the difference; we're supposed to make this stand. Shoulder to shoulder, 'till the end,” she mocked. “I'm expected to fight by your side when I wouldn't trust you with a piece of parchment, never mind my life? No. Not a chance. You have fun with your little war, but I'm done. I'm finished with all of it. Everyone. I'm finished with you, Potter. Stay the fuck away from me.” And with one hateful glare at the horror stricken Gryffindor she spun sharply, robes snapping around her, and stormed away, leaving a very shell shocked group in her wake.

James felt sick, his stomach seeming to twist itself inside out as he watched the Head-Girl's retreating figure. His throbbing, bleeding hand hung forgotten at his side, because it was nothing to the constricting pain inside his chest that was making it so hard for him to breath. He wanted to run after her, but his body seemed incapable of moving and he watched helplessly as she disappeared around a corner.

“What the fuck was that?” breathed Sirius, almost reverently. James tore his eyes away from the spot where Lily had disappeared and turned to the grim, concerned faces surrounding him. He shook his head looking utterly, wretchedly lost.

“I have no idea.”

 

 

 


End file.
